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Last weekend as I was driving back to Athens after spending time with recently-moved-away friends at our annual trek to the Bristol Rhythm and Roots music festival… it hit me.  
 I’ve been pretty sad about my friends moving away, but I finally realized exactly what the saddness feels like. Sure, I know we’ll always be friends and we’ll always have things like Rhythm and Roots to go back to and new long-distance memories to create… but this saddness feels like a death. A mourning. A loss of something I’ll never get back.  
 Friends sometime come into your life for a season. Your individual strands that have been weaving their own stories meet and intertwine in a specific place for a specific set of time. We become tied to other people and then, almost as quickly as it happens, your strands separate.  
 Sometimes it’s more of a fraying of the threads, other times it’s a natural separation due to circumstance: moving away, getting married, new jobs, having kids. Life is tangled and messy.  
 I know I’m mourning those strands being separated… but I’m also OK. 
  I’m OK.  
 Feels strange to say that. I feel… different. Like,  yes , a part of me has (quite dramatically and eccentrically) died a sort of death but at the same time… I feel OK. 
 Really. 
 This is life. This is what it feels like to grow up. The separating strands make room for new story lines, and sub-plots have space to breathe, morph, and become larger parts of my complicated story.  
 I’ll always have those other threads and their tales will be a part of my tapestry forever… but the fraying edges promise new life and so, for the moment, I can rest in the loneliness and wait for the new picture to emerge. 

Last weekend as I was driving back to Athens after spending time with recently-moved-away friends at our annual trek to the Bristol Rhythm and Roots music festival… it hit me. 

I’ve been pretty sad about my friends moving away, but I finally realized exactly what the saddness feels like. Sure, I know we’ll always be friends and we’ll always have things like Rhythm and Roots to go back to and new long-distance memories to create… but this saddness feels like a death. A mourning. A loss of something I’ll never get back. 

Friends sometime come into your life for a season. Your individual strands that have been weaving their own stories meet and intertwine in a specific place for a specific set of time. We become tied to other people and then, almost as quickly as it happens, your strands separate. 

Sometimes it’s more of a fraying of the threads, other times it’s a natural separation due to circumstance: moving away, getting married, new jobs, having kids. Life is tangled and messy. 

I know I’m mourning those strands being separated… but I’m also OK.

I’m OK.

Feels strange to say that. I feel… different. Like, yes, a part of me has (quite dramatically and eccentrically) died a sort of death but at the same time… I feel OK.

Really.

This is life. This is what it feels like to grow up. The separating strands make room for new story lines, and sub-plots have space to breathe, morph, and become larger parts of my complicated story. 

I’ll always have those other threads and their tales will be a part of my tapestry forever… but the fraying edges promise new life and so, for the moment, I can rest in the loneliness and wait for the new picture to emerge.